At this point in time, we have been “officially” dating for nearly a year. We are at the point in our relationship where we are ready to move in together. We’ve been ready for a while, although I absolutely refused to move in with him until we surpassed our one-year point. There’s no real reason behind this logic, just that I have always told myself (or society told me) that you should wait at least one year until you move in together.
On frosty winter nights, you convened with friends to strap on ice skates at the Frog Pond, where you’d body-check small children who had come down from the North Shore for some innocent family fun.
The transition into adulthood isn’t formulaic, but I’ve tried my damnedest to prescribe the right steps to get me there, and maybe imparting them to you may save some poor soul who, like me, still hasn’t gotten her sh*t together.
Manual labor wasn’t my forte, but at least I was enthusiastic.
You can thank the trope that women don’t enjoy sex or care about it on ideas created and spread by those of the Enlightenment Age, not the religious and sexually satisfied Puritans
As more than 800 authors converge on Boston’s The Muse and The Marketplace Conference, a new avenue into library collections is being hailed by a bookless library — in San Antonio, Texas.
You could’ve been a hero. Now you’re just a man who played baseball.
I recently left the crass, frozen bosom of my ancestral New England for the impossibly colder Midwest—specifically Michigan.
And silly me, I didn’t even realize it.
In what some authors may find surprising, a leading ‘gatekeeper,’ literary agent Kristin Nelson, says an authoritative personality can be writer’s best friend in negotiation — the best chance you have of seeing the gate to your prosperity well-kept.